


this is merely the fine art of...

by Zombiegravitation



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Set in America, Slow Build, Vampire!Peter, Work In Progress, southern heiress!lydia, starts in 1860's
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 09:19:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2223729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zombiegravitation/pseuds/Zombiegravitation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At fifteen, Lydia is being forced to choose her fiance, a man she will marry once she is twenty. To become the perfect example for her siblings to follow unless her brother willingly chooses to head the family. Enter Peter who meets her at a local shop, perusing possible selections for his next meal. Instead he finds Lydia charming and rather interesting, a woman who corrects men on their knowledge, how her face would tighten and fall into a facsimile of a smile when she was called insolent or belittled. Hearing her problem, he offers her a choice: die at his hand, run away with him & join his lifestyle or stay and become the little doll they want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. letter writing.

_May 1864_

_Dearest Lydia,_

_I do not know how much longer I will be able to bear this war. Every day I lose another friend, another brother. These men could never replace you in my heart, but witnessing these atrocities let us share a bond that cannot be underestimated. What I've witnessed -- images and sounds that haunt my dreams and echo endlessly in my heart -- are lightened when shared, and I am grateful to share them with brothers-in-arms. Every day I thank God that you were born a female and that fact keeps you safe at home._

_Imagining you safe and sheltered at home is the only thing that allows me to sleep at night._

Lydia pauses her reading, whispering softly, “You softhearted fool. You should have never joined the fight, I’m not safe here.”

She glanced over her shoulder where her father and mother were arguing which suitor was better for her. Her sister was trying to discreetly look at her letter, but Lydia scowled, instead walking back into her little alcove.

_I long for the comfort of home; hot water to bathe in, good, filling food on the table, to be away from the sounds of men reduced back to children screaming in pain from being injured and dying, the rumble of canon and rifle fire. To be able to move freely without fear of being shot or killed._

_We are fighting a losing battle. We are told the North has a new General heading their armies. Lydia, it is your duty to see our family's slaves freed and provided a living wage should I not return and the Union somehow manages to win. The hypocrisy in killing men to defend the right to own other men is wearing on my soul. Every time I point the barrel of my gun at a man and pull the trigger I feel more and more hollow. I fear the empty feeling will consume my soul._

_Surely, there is an honorable way out of this?_

_There isn't. There is no honor in killing. No honor in owning men. No honor in desertion. It appears I will be destined to become everything I despise._

_My regiment is scheduled for leave soon. I hope that the comforts of home lessen my burden and ease my aching heart._

_Until then be well little bird,_

_William_

Even though William has asked her not to try and intercede on his behalf, Lydia knows she has to, if at least to soothe her own worries. The tone of his latest letters has her more and more worried. When he was first drafted, Will spun tales of campfires and foolishness he partakes in with other trouble-making Johnny Rebels. Made the war seems like nothing more than childhood games they played together with the children of the town. He never wrote of anything more serious than the name of the towns where he posts his mail, the only hint of his whereabouts in the war.

Lydia hid a map in her room, carefully marking where the news reports say there are battles and tracing where her brother was. His regiment had only seen few battles and spent most time guarding specific towns, at least until the Battle of Chancellorsville when they were pulled in to more battles.

Something great horror must have fallen him; there was no other reason for his letter to be so utterly out of character. Unless…the war had broken his spirit. She found it hard to imagine -- nor would she want to -- a life without his hopeful nature.

Will is her only source of laughter and high spirits in this family. He shared her love of knowledge, and gently teased her for being smarter most of the men in the town; unlike their younger sister Claire who was too dimwitted and frivolous, Thomas too little to learn or their parents always fighting & telling Lydia to act like a proper lady. Sometimes his humor had a biting edge but never would Lydia imagine him morose and resentful.

She sighed instead concocting a plan to convince her sister to try to charm their father to a better frame of mind, maybe then they could convince him to bring home Will

~*~

July 1864

"I will not." Elijah says as he looks up from his journal and glare at his daughter, Claire already fleeing the study. "Do not waste my time asking again."

"But Father, it's destroying him. William wasn't never meant to be a soldier, he's no killer! You know that." Lydia steps closer to her father's desk. "Money is not the problem, I know we can afford to buy him out."

He tosses his quill down, ignoring the ink that smears across the oak desk. "It's not about the money, Lydia! It's about pride and honor. Our family name will be _ruined_ if we do it. What will the other families think if I buy out my son and theirs are still fighting?"

"I don’t care what the other families think! This is my brother we are talking about! Do you really care more for your reputation than you do for your oldest son?" She yelled, slamming her hands on the table; rattling the ink jar, the quill and his glass of scotch.

Elijah abruptly stood and pushed away from his desk crossing the room to stare out of the window, back turned to Lydia. Lydia's hands clenched the fabric of her skirts and she waits, white knuckled, for her Father to return his attention to her.

The clock on the mantle ticks, the only break in the unbearable silence. Lydia counts out the seconds, _one…two…three…_ as they turn into minutes, each tick seeming to get louder than the one before, with no response from her father.

Lydia resists the urge to sigh. She and her father tolerated each other, all for the sake of appearances. But her father and Will never saw eye to eye, Will had opinions that were more…northern while Father was set firmly in his traditions. It has always been this way and it always will be.

Lydia longs for her brother, the weight of his knowing gaze, the subtle quirk of his lips when he‘s amused, his solid presence by Lydia's side. Lydia forces her fingers to relax their grip, and walks to stand beside her father.

The view from the study window is spectacular. You could see the rows of tobacco, stretching as far as the eye can see. The eastern fields have her mother’s pitiful garden, nothing like her Grandmother’s, and Lydia’s rose bushes were from her garden. Lydia turns her gaze to the western side of the land, still heavily forested and filled with game.

If she closes her eyes and focuses she can almost hear the deep bass of men's voices chanting as they top the tobacco. Children's voices float up high and sweet from the shaded porches where they likely stringing beans and making dolls out of corn husks for the babies to play with. She can hear the women as they sing a hymn, tending to the gardens in the northern fields that contain part of the food that they send off to fed the soldiers during the rapidly approaching winter.

Lydia should be proud to have all of the men, women, and children laboring under the blistering sun for her family as evidence of their riches, but she feels nothing but shame, wishing they were free. She cannot believe her father forces her brother to risk his life for _"The Cause."_

Elijah exhales loudly, finally breaking the long silence, awkwardly wrapping his arm around his daughter. Her nose wrinkles, he reeks of sour smells of sweat, booze and tobacco, almost like the town drunk. "Your brother refuses to uphold his responsibilities. He thinks of nothing save his own selfish gain. It is time he learned to be a man and be ready to represent the family as head of household."

The two of them look like near mirror images from behind. Both clasp their hands behind their backs and do not look at one another, keeping their gazes focused on the fields beyond. If Lydia was male she‘d be his exact image.

"Forcing him to kill for a cause he doesn't believe in will not teach him responsibility, Father. It will only make him reckless and desperate to leave us behind in the shackles we create for ourselves with our traditions and beliefs once the war is all said and done."

She can hear him grit his teeth, and his hand twitch as if to move to hit her, but instead he squeezes her shoulder tightly, "Then it's a good thing I have you to be responsible, isn't it? You‘ll marry right and your husband will head the family until your brother realizes his mistakes. Now why don't you go and entertain our guests?”

Lydia turns to face her father confused, there was no news from her maid nor her mother. Who could it- No of course. Realization dawned on her face, an ambush of suitors. Her parents were already forcing them in her face, not yet sixteen and yet already being forced to wed.

“Now Lydia, sweet heart,” Her mask starts sliding into place as he calls her pet names, as if he’s only doing this for her good. “Perhaps Mr. Walters will be able to ease your mind. He comes from a good family, Lydia; he would not be a bad match for you."

Lydia looks at her father and steps out of arm's reach, she fights to keep the disgust out of her voice. "I’m sure he is a good man, but until William is home safely for good - not just on leave - I will have no peace."

It wasn't an exaggeration, it was a truth. Since he’s been gone Lydia had been restless and having strange dreams - night terrors really - of death. She’d wake in the night, with sweat and her maid Sera shaking her awake or on others she’d find herself muddy and bare foot, at the edge of their property where the forest begins, leaning against a tree.

She strides toward the door, grasps the knob with one hand, and turns back to glare at her father. "And neither should you."

She slams the door closed behind her, hearing his angry cry of her name before walking stiffly past servants. She breathes in and out slowly and deeply, trying to calm herself. Getting angry at her father was futile, it wouldn't help her get Will home.


	2. Hiding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lydia indulges in a game of hide and seek.

Once Lydia gets back to her room, she finds Sera, Michelle and another servant laying out a new outfit for her.

“There you are, your mother told us that you have a gentleman caller. You need to change now.” Sera said frantically waving her over. Michelle shakes her head, instead passing Lydia a cool glass of water. Once Lydia takes a sip, she waves for the new servant girl to station herself behind them, and wave a large, woven fan to combat the heat.

Her hands move to unbutton Lydia’s dress, but she pauses sensing Lydia’s discomfort. “Forgive me, Miss Lydia but I could tell your mother that you feel ill. Say that you suffered a dizzy spell caused by the heat and let you rest a while, dear.”

Lydia gives her old nursemaid a weak smile, "That would be for the best if you please.“

Michelle gave her a brief hug before leaving. Sera sighed, already moving aside her evening gown onto a chair, “Miss Lydia, you’ll never get married if you don’t see your suitors. This should be an easy choice, you come from a good family, you have wealth. If it wasn't for your wits and that sharp tongue you’d have more suitors lining up.”

Turning so her back was to Sera, Lydia let her undo the buttons, remove the layers of petticoats, then finally the tight lacing on the corset. She took in a deep breath, gulping down the fresh air that her lungs craved wishing she could go back to the simple peasant dress she wore when doing her experiments in the old garden shed.

“Please don’t start this again, Sera. I’ll marry when I ready, not when my father thinks it’s best. Now please leave and let me rest.”

Sera frown, wanting to objected but she rather not argue with Lydia. She signaled the girl to come with her, but still she wearily eyed Lydia as she gave her a warning. “We’ll be back just before dinner, to dress you of course. You better not leave this room again.”

Lydia huffed, laying back onto her bed waiting till the door closed and at least two minutes passed before going to her bookshelf. She moved her brother’s old textbooks and pushed out the paneling to the secret hole. In it she found her old copy of Leaves of Grass.

She first read it almost three years ago, when she stole it from her brother’s room. She hadn't realized that the novel would be scandalous. She just wondered what had peaked her brother’s interest.

The first poem - and her favorite at that - had been ‘Poem of You, Whoever You Are.’. Lydia remembered how her blush crept up to her ears as she listened to the low voice her mind conjured up to whisper the next lines, _“Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you, that you be my poem, I whisper with my lips close to your ear, I have loved many women and men, but I love none better than you.”_

A strange warmth had sunk into her, curling up on her chest making her long for something unknown. It’d only taken her brother three days before realizing why his twelve year old sister would not look him in the eyes without a soft flush starting on her cheeks. He waited a few more day to wait for her to slip up and accidentally reveal her secret, Will had scolded at her of course, for reading something like that.

"I used to love going through the books in father's library. A year ago, a friend of his moved back east sent him a copy of a book called Leaves of Grass. That was my favorite."

"I like Whitman," Lydia said offhandedly as she read another one of the family journals.

Very suddenly, Will pulled the journal out her hands, forcing Lydia to look up.

"You've read Whitman's work?" he asked, searching her face for a lie.

"Of course not," She said, completely perplexed by how serious Will was acting. At least until she remembered why he was worried. Her face started getting blotchy as she hotly denied even know who Whitman was. Her hands waved frantically trying to cool herself down.

"Whoa," Will said, grasping her hands. "Lydia, I mind if you read my books but you‘re much too young to be reading that. I used to have to sneak that book out of father's study. I read it in the barn because I couldn't risk reading it in the house."

"Why?" She asked wanting him to say it.

"Ashbourne isn't as liberal other towns. If Mother ever finds that book, it’s going to be the last day it will live in this house. Neither of them knew I had ever read it. It‘s. . . um . . .a rather scandalous read."

He looked uncomfortable as if he was explaining the mechanics of breeding to her. Honestly she hadn't seen a man that uncomfortable since she ask the one of the farmhands to explain _that_ to her for an experiment.

It got worse after he took it back but he forgot to keep it hidden from Mother. She threw a fit, screaming it was the devil’s literature. She threw it into the fire place; Lydia had wanted to protest but with a stern look from Will, she watched with a pinched face as the book burned.

After going to a half dozen stores in Ashbourne, she found one that still carried books, since most of the printers where up North, it was nearly impossible to get new texts paired with the fact most people didn‘t have the money to buy them. Shopkeeper said her husband usually carried odd books, and while he was away she was manning the store.

She wasn't sure what books they had in stock, but when she went to check, Lydia was in luck, she couldn't believe they actually had it in stock. Thankfully, the woman wasn't familiar with it, so she had no idea how 'questionable' it was.

Reading it had become a secret treat for her, whenever she wanted that blissful warmth. She barely managed to get to the third poem before there was a knock on the door.

“Miss Lydia?”

Lydia scrambled, nearly tripping on her sheets as she shove the book back into its hiding place, just barely fixing the shelf before Michelle came in. She carried in candle even though light still showed through the window.

“You look a little flushed, sweetheart. Everything alright?”

Lydia nodded not completely trusting her own voice. She notices the local news is clenched in her hands.

“There’s more news, your father asked me to dispose of it but I know you want to know how your brother is doing.”

The local papers sometimes printed terrifying photographs of the battlefields farther east. The grainy black and white photos showed men lying on the ground on top of one another in grotesque positions, their bodies and faces so contorted, it didn’t seem real. Lydia’s face went green with nausea.

The ones that nearly made vomit where actually some of the more peaceful deaths, an occasional soldier lying on the ground features hidden by his long hair or his hat, it looked like instead of falling in battle, he had decided to stop fighting and sleep. The only sign that proved he was dead was the blood on the uniform. She nearly went hysterical when they lost contact for over a month and she saw a picture just like that expect the man look so much like her brother. The images were heartbreaking and made the ache in her chest grow.

She scanned the paper, gripping the drawer as Michelle tightened her lacing. There were more reports of Yellow Fever and was running through the army camps. What if he had fallen ill?

“Don’t worry about your brother, we have enough to deal with Margot’s worrying. Once a nursemaid always a nursemaid. Mister William, well he’s as healthy as a horse probably bored without his books.”

“They haven’t been taking any letters to the camps?”

“Be smart, darling. That sickness could travel through that mail, its safer for both sides to not send anything.” She helped her into the multiple layers and kneel to tighten her shoelaces.

Lydia quickly brushed her hair, letting it flow freely. Michelle asked her to smile, Lydia gave a smile & let Michelle pinched the apple of her cheeks for some color. The corner of Lydia’s mouth twitched wanting to scowl at her reflection.

“Never frown, someone could fall in love with your smile.” She teased.

_Maybe if she painted her lips and rouge like those Italian girls from down the lane, she’s make a fitting doll for someone to love._

Michelle sighed, she knew Lydia was putting on her mask, she worried for her. She’ll never find love if she doesn't let them see.

“How do I look?”

“Beautiful like always.” She said smoothing down an escaping curl.

“Do you think he’ll like?”

“Of course. What man wouldn't?” She sighed watching Lydia walk past her. “You don’t have to do this.”

Lydia paused at the door before turning back to Michelle, “I do a lot of things for our benefits. And don’t worry, it doesn't matter who the suitor is, I won’t fall prey to father’s desire to turn girls into emotionally insecure marionettes, or into a girl who pulls up her dress for the first flattering remark.”

It’s just a quiet click and she walks through the candle lit hall alone. As she nears the dining rooms, she can hear a deep baritone laugh.

"Dearest Claire, I must insist I ask you to call me Henry?" Her arms move to hold herself tightly, as she starts to curl up. "Tell me all about your sweet older sister or your brother’s latest letter. Don't leave anything out! I do so love to hear our soldier's accounting of the battles."

Her face pinched as she looked in; Henry Walters was leaning forward towards Claire, looking almost leery. How dare he? Claire’s still a just child.

And Claire just ate up the attentions, as she flushed daintily, softly replying. “Oh, I don’t know much about the war, Daddy doesn't think it’s good for girls to know about the war. Brother’s letters to me are mostly stories his friends share. Lydia should becoming soon.”

She looks demurely down at her plate. _Be a true lady, Lydia like your sister._

“And here I am,” Lydia announcing her presence. The dinner party fell quiet as she took a seat next to baby Thomas, cleaning his cheeks of peas before turning back to the conversation.

One of the maids waiting for her with cool pitcher of water, hurried to serve her. When everything was dispensed, she stayed by hall to the kitchen getting ready to bring the next dish. "William doesn't write about the battles."

"No? How strange, I've always found men to be eager to speak of war and bloodshed."

Lydia sips his water and belatedly nods her thanks in maid’s direction. "Strange is it not that you are here then? I know many great men from the town as well as those who've worked for us go yet you - a strapping youth- are still here. Should I be as weary that you have bad character?

“There are some perfectly acceptable reasons not to join the fight -too old, too sick- but then there are some men who are simply too cowardly to join the cause. Those are the ones who have paid someone else to go in their stead." She murmured before starting on her meal, there was a look of disgust on her face aimed towards her father but not that dear Henry. She paused after a moment, “Not only that, but William doesn't, no -- we do not believe in this war. He wants to come home, and I want him here."

"I see." Henry said dabbing his mouth. "And your father disagrees?"

Lydia raised a brow, noting he smoothly ignored the jabs. “Yes, unfortunately. He believes pride is worth more than family. He also says that we’ll win the was before the first frost but I don‘t see that happening.”

“Why?”

“Because disease is spreading, resources are decreasing if this war continues through the winter again our boys won‘t survive in their thin summer uniforms. The north has more munitions and better war heads than we do. Not that they’re perfect of course.”

“Interesting, I never met a woman as knowledgeable of the war as you are. Are there any other interests I should know about?” He said trying to steer the conversation to something lighter.

“I read.”

“Really? What literature? I know there hasn't been man new novels out because of the war.”

“I’m reading some books by the Bell brothers. Father finds their works rather immature and irrelevant, but I think they are good to read. Whenever I can, I do read the books his friends sent from over seas. German is particularly hard language to read but much of the work is enjoyable. Sure it‘s not lovely like the French or Latin from Grandfather’s bibles.”

“Oh your Grandfather is fren-”

“Why don’t we talk about something more interesting?” Her mother said tightly, speaking of her French roots always angered her. Unsurprising since Grandfather fled back France after eloping with his lover when Mother was six, especially since he still sent letters to them all. He started sending letter to Grandmother to give to William & Lydia once he figured out that his daughter was likely burning them, with a little help from her brother Lydia started learning French from them. Thankfully she gave them over, never judging. 

Lydia - still too young to understand - once asked her why. Her Grandmother talked about her dark feelings, how she gave up her family to marry a Frenchman and of the correspondence between him and their children. But her last words sunk into Lydia as more of a way to steer her life.

_“Lydia, I **waited** for someone to tell me that I did good. It took years to realized that I shouldn't wait for someone to tell that. I realized that I only knew how to exist when I was wanted. I stopped living like that and tried to be better not just for my children but for myself.”_

“So what do you think, Lydia?”

“Huh?” She was knocked out of her revere. Claire giggled, finally feeling triumph over her perfect sister.

“A dance, silly. We could have masks to make it more mysterious. We get planning started, get the town to help and you know the soldiers are getting furlough late this month. So it will be perfect.”

“Who’s going to pay for it all?” Lydia said eyeing her father, there was no way he’d pay for it not with his tight purse strings.

“Don’t worry, I can pay for it.” Henry said, looking hopeful. “How generous of you.” Her voice lace with barely hidden sarcasm. “Is there anything I could do in return?”

“All I want is one dance with you.”

“Fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Minor Historical Notes:**  
>  1\. Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman, the first edition was one the shortest volumes. Yes it was considered scandalous because of its implied sexual nature. Personally I love 'Song Of Myself', 'Unfolded Out of the Folds ' and of course 'I Sing The Body Electric' though I find he is a bit long winded.
> 
> 2.Unless you were rich, you had poor resources during the war. So a party is really an extravagance. Lydia is basically implying that they that the only way they could get some of the more rarities would be paying high prices on the black market. They may have a large plantation but again certain things don’t row well south so they even lacked some foods. Even things like wheat weren’t available, caused most southerners to eat cornbread, which was thought of as lower class foods only fit for animals and slaves. Basically if Lydia lived closer to the battles her daily life would be more affected than it really was, she lives more in the Georgia or Alabama area. Because of blockades most people are unable to purchase flour, fabric, or oil for lamps, thus going to bed early was the norm.
> 
> 3.Newspapers were often used during the Civil War to ask for supplies to the front. Basically guilt tripping people who had very little to give up things. Despite what is seen in movies or reenactments the south didn’t have an official uniform, some clothing were even made by the women along with blankets and socks. In addition to not having uniforms, the soldiers barely had weapons. Lydia’s family provided as much food as they could.
> 
> 4.Men paying to get out of service was accurate. Even though Lydia knew people would talk she’d rather have her brother home. But what disgusted her was people paying out without even going to see if they were suited for war. As the war continued the ages to draft expanded 17/18 - 35/45. The very few exemptions were teachers, government and railroad workers. A man could pay someone else to take his place. Basically many rich men stayed home, and a lot poor farmers/workforce men were sent to fight. Her suitor Henry is the young son (24) of rich family, so clearly she knows either he paid or they did.
> 
> **General Notes:**  
>  Peter is going to be introduced next chapter. We’ll be with him for the next two to be exact. What is happening in Peter’s first chapter is happening while Lydia’s chapters are happening. There will be a brief interlude of Lydia and her brother reuniting just before the party. Peter’s second chapter will focus on the party where he spots Lydia for the first time. 
> 
> I'm going to try to do some historical notes at the end of each chapter if its relevant.

**Author's Note:**

> Written with a bit of help and inspiration from [Bxdcubes](http://www.bxdcubes.tumblr.com) as well as this [photoset](http://zombiegravitation.tumblr.com/post/88310088856/softlycanthropy-but-teen-wolf-vampire-au). The vampires I'm basing them off are from The Vampire Diaries since they are my favorite daywalkers but there will be more vampires, since in this verse Katherine and Klaus don't exist to nearly kill off the species therefore more vampires are around. Even parts of Lydia's origin story are slightly based on how Katherine met the Salvatore Brothers in the show, except things do go differently for Lydia.  
> I have everything outlined just need to write it. This is set in America (since I was forced to take American History instead of being able to do European History. God America is boring), the first chapters will be set specifically during the last years of the Civil. After that the time line gets a little sketchy. Any mistakes or inaccuracies are mine alone.


End file.
